I leave tomorrow for three weeks in France.  The idea for this trip came to me in a moment of insanity.  But really it began brewing a few years before that when Bill and I were on a trip to France with a group of friends.  As a former student of French–that is, I took it my Freshman year in college and again my Senior year with no remedial work in between–anyway, I fancied that I would be able to show up in any foreign, French-speaking country and navigate through it without a hitch.  That image was tainted when on the second night of our trip, I thought I had ordered a nice provencal meal for my husband and what showed up was a bowl of cow brains.  I’m not sure what the chef soaked that blob of stuff in, but from what I could make out, it was a French delicacy.  Bill should have been flattered.  Instead, he showed his gratitude by gagging.  Fortunately, our group was sitting on the patio, so the Frenchmen inside the restaurant closed the windows to shut out the noise.

I think turning 60 makes a person more contemplative.  Also, panicked.  I mean, 60 is getting towards the end of the good years.  The knees are giving out; it’s harder to see small print; calories don’t burn off as quickly (if at all).  It’s obvious to me that a lot of bucket lists are made after 60.

This is my bucket list.  To finally master a second language.  Three weeks immersed in French.  I’m going back to France, and if I’m served a plate of cow brains, it will be because I meant to order it!

So, I leave tomorrow afternoon on a flight to Paris.  Well, it’s a flight to London, then hop a commuter flight to Paris.  Then grab a cab and head for a hotel for two days in Paris before taking a train on Sunday to Aix-en-Provence where I’ll be picked up at the train station and taken an hour away to the French language school in Moustiers Ste. Marie. Moustiers is a little village that sits at the base of cliffs in southeastern France.  It is known for its pottery, also called faience.  I’ve read that it is one of the loveliest villages in France.  I suppose that’s because one description of the village in Wikipedia says that it “clings a hundred or so metres up the side of a limestone cliff” and “a spring flows from the cliiff, creating a waterfall directly out of the center of the town.”  I can’t wait to experience the sunsets, too.  I’ll be there for the first week and back to Paris for week two and three.

But, first I have to slog through getting there. I’ve packed and re-packed my bag.  I’m trying to travel light, but somehow I keep ending up with a suitcase that weighs at least 50 pounds.  I don’t know how I’m going to get that monster up the four flights of stairs at the apartment I’ve rented in Paris.  I may have to leave it on the first floor and take up articles of clothing and toiletries as I need them.

I’m sure there will be a few more barriers to leap, but I’ll think about those tomorrow.  For now, I’m just trying not to chicken out on this whole adventure.

I’ll get back to you on the other side of the trip.  Wish I could say I’ll send pictures, but a camera puts me over the bag weight limit.  I’m not giving up any of my shoes to take a camera.  It’s a girl thing.